


Triune

by bittenfeld



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bonding, Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship, Homophobia, Intimacy, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Slash, Mind Meld, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-03 12:04:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4100299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1st sequel to “A Mystic Bond of Brotherhood".  Finally back on Earth, Kirk and Spock explore their new life-bond, what the future will hold for them, and how it will impact their dear relationship with the third part of their triune: McCoy.</p><p>Final – Chapter 3:  Once more Kirk’s hands reached for Spock's, thumbs stroked Spock's fingers, knuckles.  “It’s not appropriate protocol to fall in love with one’s first-officer.”<br/>“Nor for a first-officer to request presumptuous liberties with his commanding officer.”<br/>“Spock…” – eyes half-closed, tiny smile playing at corner of lips – “… would you like to engage in presumptuous liberties with your commanding officer again tonight?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Spock…” Kirk smiled, not looking at his partner seated on the couch beside his chair. He knew Spock was looking at him.

“What is it, Jim?” the tall Vulcan queried.

Kirk just smiled in the half-lit sitting room. He could feel Spock's mind inside his own, could feel a delicate tendril of thought gently exploring, searching for something in Kirk’s mind, a particular thought, feeling. The omniscient clarity of their bonding ritual had gradually faded during the past six-and-a-half weeks, until matters finally felt more or less back to normal inside Kirk’s head. As much as he enjoyed this new found intimacy with his partner of the last twenty-eight years, he had found the sensation of another personality so close within him a little uncomfortable. But even with fading, it was still there, like a warm soothing undercurrent. The brief expansion of psionic powers had retracted until Kirk could read Spock only if some powerful emotion or danger focussed the transceivance.

Right now that was not the case, and the most he could sense was the delicate stroking caress of Spock's thoughts looking for something within him, but he didn’t know what.

“Spock,” he smiled again. “What do you want?”

He felt a sudden flood of warmth in the gentle link, and Spock smiled back at him, the normal Vulcan barriers lowered to near-zero.

“Jim,” the Vulcan asked, “do you have any regrets, any second thoughts about our joining?”

“No, Spock,” Jim Kirk replied without hesitation. A little quirky tug at one corner of his lips. “Don’t you know that through the bond? Even if I can’t read you as well as I could, I thought you could still read me. You know how I feel.”

“Yes, I know.” And then Spock shook his head. “But for the last six weeks and four days, most of what I have received from your mind regarding our bonding has been physical desire. All the more refined levels of soul-being have been over-ridden, and I cannot get past the powerful transmission of physical need.”

Mock innocence registered in bright hazel eyes. “I can’t imagine why.” The eyes half-closed. “What about you? you’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

“Of course not.” Sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on knees, Spock had been studying his clasped hands. Now he looked up to meet Kirk’s hazel gaze once again. “I have wanted this… union with you… since before I was consciously aware of the desire. My choice will not change.”

“Well, good then.” Kirk’s eyes expressed amused affection. “I’m glad that’s settled.”

He watched the man near him, mature Vulcan features highlighted by the warm room’s half-light, by the flicker of the fire in the hearth across the sitting room, short black hair glistening with a fine sheen, deeply-etched face accented by thick upswept black brows. Over cream silk blouse and black trousers Spock wore a dark-green satin hip-length cassock. Kirk watched him now, the two of them alone this evening in Kirk’s home, and the human felt a sharp pang of excitement and affection and sexual desire. He’d been feeling a lot of powerful surging emotions lately, emotions that wrenched the depths of his heart, his guts. Six-and-a-half weeks had passed since Spock's Pon Farr, six-and-a-half weeks returning home, not touching all the while they had been on board around their subordinates, trying to revert to their previous level of relationship. Kirk had discovered quite rapidly that the restraint had very nearly taken all his will-power to obey. The long ride back to Earth, with both of them on the bridge once more, professing business-as-usual, proved near-torture for Kirk, and even yet he wasn’t sure that he’d hid it very convincingly from the crew – oh well, what they knew, they knew; and their surmises were their surmises.

But now, home alone together, with no potential threat of being walked in upon by a certain Chief Engineer with yet another life-threatening disaster on his hands, or a yeoman requesting a signature for this week’s toilet-paper requisition, or any hundred other distractions indigenous to starship command, Kirk felt his resistance rapidly dissipating. If allowed unchecked, the next two minutes would find him forcing his first-officer down on the couch and intently ravishing the Vulcan’s body. And he wanted to ravish the Vulcan’s body very badly – but not just yet. This night was to be perfection, their first time together since Pon Fahr, their first time in Kirk’s bed, and Kirk did not intend to rush one moment of their interchange.

Of course, good intentions don’t always come to pass.

Spock reached for him, and once again their hands touched, caressing in the manner Spock liked to caress; then slowly, gently, Kirk leaned his head closer and the two of them kissed… long, slow, deep – in the manner Kirk like to kiss.

During the ride home, they had split-shifted command, so at least they weren’t physically together on the bridge very often, but even that hadn't attenuated the deep intimate resonance very much.

“… mm, Spock…” Kirk murmured, parted lips against Spock's cheek, “you taste so good…” Moist lips explored sallow skin. “Don’t tell me that you’re not enjoying this at least a little bit.”

Again their lips kissed, then their head parted a few inches. Spock's right hand reached for Kirk’s face, two fingers gently caressed Kirk’s cheek, jawline, lips. Willingly the Vulcan admitted, “I find this quite pleasurable.”

“Good,” Kirk acknowledged with a little grin once again. “I’d hate to think I was torturing you with all this, uh, impractical love-play…” He kissed the fingers touching his lips. “… I hoped I wouldn’t have to force you against your will tonight…”

Long slender fingers stroked the side of his face, his temple, his cheekbone. “You are being facetious, Jim,” Spock chided lightly. “I receive enough of that from McCoy. You know I am perfectly capable of feeling pleasure.”

“So, how do you explain that logically, Mister Spock?”

“Jim, if you are going to insist upon continuing in the manner of our good doctor…”

Kirk’s kiss interrupted. And Kirk felt through the resonance Spock's pleasure – Spock's great pleasure – and Kirk’s chuckling amusement answered back. He reached a hand behind Spock's head, pressed Spock tighter to himself, felt the soft flesh of their lips yield against hard teeth. Desirously he nipped Spock's lower lip. Spock allowed it, then moved to kiss Kirk’s right temple. Kirk’s fingers slipped into short straight black hair, to stroke and fondle.

Again Spock's paired fingers trailed over Kirk’s face, ever so gently. “How can I most greatly please you tonight, Jim?” he inquired softly.

Kirk smiled, eyes half-closed to more fully experience Spock's caressing touch. Again he kissed the exploring fingers. “Just be yourself, Spock,” he urged quietly. “Just be yourself. That’s all I ask.” He reached for Spock's relaxed hand, drew the knuckles to his lips; kissed them, touched with parted lips.

The door buzzer hummed, jerking them both out of their warm quiet solitude.

“Who could that be?” Kirk queried, grudgingly rising from his chair, remembering to regain decorum and straighten his clothing, before opening the heavy walnut front door.

McCoy stood outside, a smile on his face and a bottle of brandy in his hand. “Greetings! A traveler from afar come a-visiting. Is there any room at the inn?”

Kirk smiled ushered him in. “No room at the inn, but maybe we can find you a little-used shuttle bay for no more than a-hundred-and-fifty credits a night.”

“Ouch! Rates have skyrocketed since the last time I passed this way. Hi, Spock.” Strolling over to the sofa, McCoy tossed his windbreaker over the arm of the couch and plopped down beside Spock. “I brought over some of that Vulcan brandy you gave me for Christmas. If Jim will be so kind as to bring some glasses over here, we’ll see how good it is.”

“It is excellent, Doctor, I assure you. I think you will find it quite palatable.”

“I’m sure I will, if our captain will just hurry over here with the glasses.”

Kirk set three glasses on the coffee table, poured the liquor, then lifted his glass in a toast. “Gentlemen, may we drink to us and to the Enterprise, long may she sail.”

“Amen,” McCoy seconded.

Then Kirk returned to his chair beside the couch. His expression turned serious. “Bones, I’m glad you’re here. Spock and I have been discussing a certain matter of importance, and, well, I hate to disrupt your festive mood, but I guess you should be the first to hear, since you’ve already guessed it anyway. At the end of Spock's Pon Farr, we went through another ritual to seal our new relationship permanently… I don’t know how else to say this, but in human words, we’re… married.”

“Married?! Oh, now, Jim!” McCoy pushed himself forward on the couch, nearly spilling his drink, festive mood definitely disrupted. “So, you two really did decide to continue this thing. I was hoping that maybe by the time we all got home, you would’ve realized the folly in such an action, and dropped the subject.”

Kirk shrugged helplessly, lips tightened in a humorless smile.

“Jim and I need each other, Doctor,” the Vulcan admitted. “We did not intend to fall in love, but it happened. We could not deny it. So we modified to Pon Farr ritual into the life-bonding rite. And now because we are life-mates, we choose to no longer live apart.”

McCoy pale eyes tightened in irritation. “For godsake, man, do you know what you’re saying? I mean, Jim helping you in an emergency is one thing, but now you’re both talking about a homosexual union. What do you think the crew is going to say? What is Starfleet going to say?”

“Bones,” Kirk interrupted, “you knew this was coming. And we can’t hide it any longer. Trying to cover just for the trip home all last month was hell for both of us. We’ve got to go through with this – whatever the cost.”

“Do either of you have any idea what the cost is?” McCoy reminded. “Starfleet will have your rears. And your commissions. And what about the Enterprise? And what about the crew? You’re not just involving yourselves – you’re involving a helluva lot of other people too… Damn, this wouldn’t have happened if I’d had my head on straight when we were first discussing his Pon Farr and if I’d insisted that Spock do it with me instead of you.”

Spock watched the man on the couch beside him. “But you are already joined with your life-mate, Doctor. It would not have been proper for me to ask you, to desecrate your marriage bond. Beside, if I had requested your assistance, would you have agreed? You were quite adamantly opposed to it at the time.”

“Sure, I was opposed to it. But I had said I would if Jim had backed out. At least I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you. And even if I had, at least it wouldn’t have endangered the line of command of the Enterprise.”

“At least you have Maggie,” Kirk pointed out. “Spock and I have no one. Yet we need it as much as anyone else, to someone to… grow old with. Is that such an abhorrent thing to want? At least allow us that.”

“Of course I allow you that. The problem is that, in case you hadn't noticed, you’re both men – as well as the fact that you are a starship captain, and Spock just happens to be your second-in-command. Besides, you’re both married to the Enterprise anyway. You’re both aware that the surrender of deep personal relationships is one of the unfortunate aspects of starship command, and you both made your choices years ago.”

“Situations change, Doctor,” the Vulcan reminded. “We have each given nearly forty years to Starfleet. We are both in our middle fifties. Most starship commanders in active command don’t even live this long, and those that do rarely remain in command for twenty-eight years.”

“Spock, I understand that you love each other – I’ve seen it since the second day of your Pon Fahr. I knew it was happening to Jim, and I knew it was happening to you too. And I realize that you both have needs for companionship. It’s not natural to have to live your whole life without a mate, without something beyond casual companionship, something even beyond the blood-brotherhood which the three of us share. But I also know that you both love the Enterprise. If you go through with this, you will lose the ship – Starfleet will take her away from you, I guarantee it – and I wouldn’t consider your commissions very secure either.” McCoy leaned forward, tension stiffening his body. “Dammit, I care about you both. I don’t happen to accept homosexual relationships as normal, but I care about you both as my closest friends, and I don’t want to see either of you hurt. A decision like this could ruin your lives and your careers. Please listen to me! Please… before you make any final decision.”

“Bones, the decision has already been made.” Kirk came over to the couch to sit beside the doctor. “I didn’t realize it ‘til the end of Spock's Pon Farr, but all of this was a foregone conclusion when I first accepted Spock's request to assist him. My bonding with him goes deeper than anything else I’ve ever known, deeper than my career desires, deeper even than my feelings for the Enterprise, for her crew…”

“… for me?…”

“Bones, please understand. Our friendship with you hasn’t changed the slightest fraction. We can’t bear to see you hurt, any more than you can bear to see us hurt. Our growing feelings for each other in no way subtracts from our affection for you. You know how much I care about you, how much you care about me. But now, think about how much more you love Maggie. And yet your greater love for your wife does not detract from the affection between you and me. Now, in that light, please try to understand what I mean to Spock and what he means to me.”

“Jim, it’s not the same. I don’t know what the difference is, but there is a difference. It’s just not the same. And besides, my relationship with my wife does not threaten my career. Yours with Spock does threaten yours – and his.”

Kirk’s hand comfortingly squeezed McCoy’s shoulder. “We are willing to give that up, Bones, if Starfleet insists. Like Spock said, we’ve given most of our lives to Starfleet. Now I’m fifty-five, Spock is fifty-six. Maybe it’s time for us to retire from active starship command. Maybe Starfleet will reassign us to ground jobs, or maybe they will indeed retract our commissions altogether. As it is, this tour of duty is just about up for both of us anyway, and re-enlistment will come up in about six months. We may not choose to re-enlist at all, and just request complete retirement instead. Bones, there really is life outside of Starfleet, and we mean to explore that now too. Please, my friend, accept that. I mean, you’re sixty-six yourself. Don’t you want to get out of this madhouse and spend the rest of your life with Maggie?”

“Sure, but after about six months, I’d probably go loony with nothing to do. This is where I belong, at least for another five or six years, and Maggie knows that and agrees with it. And this is where you belong, and Spock too, for another five or six – or ten – years, before any of us start talking about retirement.” McCoy’s pale eyes moved over his captain sitting next to him. “Jim, you’re just talking like this now because you’re still under the influence of your emotional reaction to Spock's Pon Farr. You may enjoy retirement with Spock for a short while, but then you and Spock are going to realize that you want the Enterprise back, that your place is at her command post, but by then it’ll be too late, and you’ll both regret it for the rest of your lives.”

“No, Doctor,” Spock argued. “We know that there is something greater than spending the rest of our lives commanding a starship. We know because we have been there, we have experienced it. You cannot comprehend our satisfaction with our decision because you have not experienced it. If you would permit, Doctor McCoy, I would like to effect a mind-link with you, allow you to understand at least something of our perspective, experience some of those deeper levels of union.”

McCoy hesitated warily. “I’m not sure I want to experience what you and Jim feel…”

“No, Doctor, I do not mean it in that way…”

“Please, Bones, let him do it. I want you to understand why – as important as the Enterprise is to us, and you know how much it is – why this relationship must take precedence. Please let him.”

Uneasily the doctor’s gaze shifted between his two friends before he finally agreed. “All right, Spock, go ahead.”

Kirk smiled comfortingly, hand on McCoy’s arm, and reiterated McCoy’s response in a whisper: “All right.”  
. . . . .

 _to be continued_ …


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk was smiling to himself about his old friend. Stepping up behind the tall slender figure, he laid his hands on the Vulcan’s shoulders. “Are you happy now, Spock?” he asked, beginning to massage the Vulcan’s lean-muscled neck and shoulders.  
> “Are you?” Spock responded.  
> Kirk looked past his old friend to the tranquil sea beyond. His fingers stroked, soothed warm flesh. “Yes, Spock, I’m very happy.”  
> Spock nodded acknowledgement. “Then I too am happy, for both of us.”

Gently Spock pulled McCoy back against the back of the sofa. Then sliding his left arm be­hind McCoy to rest on the upper edge of the couch, he reached across in front of both of them with his right arm to touch long sensitive fingers to McCoy’s left temple and cheek.

A wave of peaceful serene quietude shimmered over McCoy’s consciousness, and the doctor felt himself slump back against Spock's supporting arm, eyes closed.

He was not unconscious, but rather he felt a mesmeric tingle quiver through his body, felt the hairs of his arms erect with tiny goosebumps, felt his body lighten, a sensation like the onset of sleep paralysis when one’s mind is still half-awake. Only a few times before, in all the years he’d known Spock, had there been a reason to undergo a mind-meld with the Vulcan, but McCoy had always ex­per­ienced it as a pleasant light hypnotic trance; he’d never had any negative feelings or after-effects.

Now, gradually, he became aware of outside thoughts, feelings sifting into his mind, Spock's consciousness slipping in beside his own, not overwhelming it or taking its place, but rather inter­mingling, gently, soothingly; their individualities simultaneously disparate yet unified.

And with it, he felt love enfolding him, comforting, the love for him which Spock had never before expressed openly and freely. Many times throughout their twenty-eight years together McCoy had knows the effects of Spock's love for him and Jim Kirk, supporting them, backing them up, pro­tecting their lives whenever necessary, as McCoy and Kirk did for Spock and for each other. McCoy knew perfectly well that Spock would not, could not, speak of love, nor did McCoy any longer feel the need to demand that of him to be fully aware of its constant presence. So now, for the first time in all those many years, McCoy felt the Vulcan’s love for him in its pure raw form, such a beautiful flood of passion, that McCoy felt his eyes moisten… _Spock, oh, Spock_ … _you were right_ , _Jim_ … _I see through his eyes, I feel what he feels_ … _I am not alone, I am not divided from the two of you_ …

– tendrils of Vulcan thought penetrated his mind… _no, you are not alone, Doctor_ … _the three of us are bonded eternally_ … _we are indeed blood-brothers_ … _a triune which cannot be severed_ … _you are not being left behind, Doctor_ … _you are a part of us_ … _each of us is a part of the others_ … _we were brought together as a triune, and we were bonded as a triune_ …

– and McCoy felt those tendrils of Vulcan love probing his soul, seeking deeper levels to unite with, deeper and deeper, opening McCoy’s innermost being, levels that he himself hardly knew existed, freeing him, just as McCoy’s scalpel might free up a joint form scar tissue or adhesions… and yet he also felt uneasiness, as though he wasn’t sure he wanted those deep levels exposed, he might not like what he saw of himself there…

– there was an irony to be had: how often, in earlier years, had McCoy attempted to open Spock up, unaware that the Vulcan already existed comfortably at far deeper levels than he chose to reveal blatantly; yet now when Spock probed very deeply into the doctor’s tender soul, McCoy sud­denly felt disquietude, trepidation at being exposed. Irony indeed.

– laid bare, not only to Spock, but to himself as well… _don’t, Spock… stop, please… I’m not ready for this_ …

– he felt the probing hesitate, not dig any deeper, just hold in place, caressing, calming…

… _it is all right, Doctor_ … _you are all right_ … _I shall not go beyond your desires_ … _just relax and feel_ … _just feel_ …

– he did let himself relax as much as he could… how strange, the Vulcan urging him to feel… tentative… _yes_ … _perhaps it is all right, there is no pain_ …

– Spock respected his uneasiness, urged no further, but whispered into McCoy’s mind: … _understand, Doctor, there is so much more to existence than simply the three-dimensional time-space continuum_ … _For nearly forty years, Jim and you and I have explored the outermost reaches of man’s reality_ … _now Jim and I choose to explore the inner depths of our own existence_ … _the soul must not stagnate_ … _please understand, Doctor McCoy_ … _please understand and love_ … _please love_ …

… _I do love you_ … _I love you both_ … _I don’t want you to get hurt_ … _I love you_ …

Slowly, gradually, McCoy felt the gentle Vulcan thoughts lift from his own consciousness, fade into insubstantiality… he felt the three-dimensional time-space continuum now solidify about himself once again. Several moments passed as he lay there, eyes closed. He became aware of Spock's presence close beside him, his head cradled on Spock's arm, Spock's free hand gently break­ing the mind-link with a light caress to his cheek; then Spock shifted slightly, closer, and McCoy felt Vulcan lips touch his forehead, linger momentarily – Spock's quiet breath feathered his hair – then pull back slightly… and somewhere deep inside himself McCoy recognized the kiss as not just a casual gesture but rather a solemn symbol of joining, of intimate friendship… All these years, McCoy had prodded Spock for some visible sign of emotion, of feeling, bantered with him, needled him playfully –

– and now Spock had answered him in deep sacred communion, answered him more pro­foundly than he’d ever expected, so warm, so soothing… he just wanted to lie there and absorb the warmth, the comfort… not awaken from this twilight haze, but just continue to float undisturbed in the warm velvet dark…

– a hand touched his knee, Kirk whispered, “Bones!”

– Spock quieted him: “… shh, Jim…”

– a light breath escaped McCoy, “… Spock…”

“I am here, Doctor, You may awaken now.”

Slowly McCoy opened his eyes to the half-lit warmth of Kirk’s sitting room. Spock still sat beside him; Kirk hovered near, kneeling on the floor, watching the doctor. The last of sleep paralysis tingled and faded, as McCoy sat there, head still resting back on his friend’s arm.

– another light breath… “… my god, Spock…”

“Everything is well, Doctor McCoy. Are you all right?”

“Yes… I think so…” Carefully, stiffly, McCoy sat up, rubbed a hand over his face to clear away the last wisps of mesmeric haze. “Yes, Spock, I’m all right… my god, Spock…” He turned his head to look at his friend, not sure what he’d see on the Vulcan’s face, not sure what his own face was projecting. Spock's expression was characteristically placid, no hint of the profound love emo­tion which ebbed and flowed deep within, although McCoy fancied that he could read the hidden glow somewhere inside those dark eyes absorbing him in their gaze.

On the other side of McCoy, Kirk moved onto the sofa, watching his friend caringly. “Bones,” he urged, “do you see now? can you understand?”

“A little… not completely,” the physician ventured cautiously. “I understand your need for mental and spiritual growth – maybe I even understand why you choose it over your life-careers with Starfleet… But are you absolutely sure that you have to share a sexual relationship to accomplish that?”

A tiny helpless smile on Kirk’s face. “Bones… I remember at the beginning of all this, when we were all in my quarters discussion Spock's need, and I said that neither he or no wanted to engage in such intimate activity, but that we had no choice, we had to do it out of his necessity. Well, through the very act of engaging in that activity, Spock's necessity has become my need as well. You just spent five minutes mentally bonded with Spock at a deeper level than you ever did before, now you know what it’s like – well, I spent hours, all night long, seven nights in a row, bonded with him physically, mentally, spiritually. We cannot simply turn it off at the end of the week.”

“Spock can.”

“No, Doctor,” Spock countered. “What is turned off at the end of Pon Farr is my ability to procreate, and my ability to become physically sexually stimulated. But with one’s true life-mate, the sexual drive is far more complex. Even you, Doctor, when you are not sexually aroused at any given moment, still you have sexual feelings within your absolute love for your wife. It is the same with mated Vulcans. I am not so different from you.”

“Well.” McCoy’s face registered calm resignation. “I’ve said my piece. I can’t say I entirely agree with your logic this time, but if you’re both completely sure that this is what you want, then I accept your decision. I certainly don’t intend to shun you because of it – as I admitted before, it’s not entirely unexpected.”

“Thank you, Bones,” Kirk smiled quietly, then reached for the brandy glasses left unattended on the coffee table. “Now that the serious discussion is out of the way, would you like the rest of your drink, Doctor?”

“Yes… sure.” McCoy took the proffered glass, drank another swallow of the Vulcan liquor. For a long moment, silence settled over the three men, each dwelling in his own thoughts. Only the soft tick of the clock on the shelf intruded on the quietude.

Then McCoy mentioned, “Listen, what are you two doing tomorrow night? Maggie would like you both over for dinner. Then on Wednesday, there’s going to be a little get-together for Scotty and Seanna up at the lodge – and anyone who wants to can spend the whole week.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Kirk remembered, “The wedding’s this Friday, isn’t it? That’s just four days away.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m sure we’re free for all of it – Spock?”

“Yes, I am available,” Spock agreed. “And I am particularly looking forward to seeing Mag­gie again tomorrow. My mother has asked me to convey her compliments on Maggie’s recent disser­tation exploring Kiri-Kin-Tha’s philosophical impact on modern Vulcan metaphysics. And my father offers an invitation for your wife to visit the Academy the next time she comes to Vulcan.”

“Maggie would love it. I’d never be able to get her to come home,” McCoy admitted with a grin. “And of course, your parents know that they’re welcome at our place any time they’re down on Earth.” Taking another swallow of the spicy alcohol, his expression grew serious once again. “Uh, say, listen, Spock, I’d, uh, like to thank you for what you just did for me…”

“No thanks are necessary, Doctor.”

“Well, I think they are… after all these years trying to provoke a show of emotion out of you against your will, needling you constantly…”

“That’s quite all right, Doctor. Actually I have enjoyed our moments of banter. Sometimes they have even proven quite challenging… to my maintenance of emotional control.”

A calm smile played on the doctor’s lips. “Nevertheless, Spock, I apologize for being such an SOB all this time, and I want to thank you for expressing… feelings for me… just because I asked for it… I can imagine what that must have cost you.”

“I chose to do it, Doctor McCoy. But thank you for your regard.”

Then McCoy slid himself forward to the edge of the sofa, started to put his drink down on the glass coffee table. “Well, maybe I’d better be going now. I didn’t mean to intrude on the both of you – I didn’t know you already had company, Jim – I guess you two want to be alone…”

Kirk’s hand on his knee interrupted McCoy. “Nonsense, Doctor. You’ve expressed that several times these past few weeks, as though you think we’re trying to get rid of you, and it isn’t true. We’re still a triune like we’ve always been. After all, where would Athos and Porthos be with­out Aramis?” A tiny characteristic grin tugged at the corner of Kirk’s mouth. “And besides, I’ve re­cently spent a whole week alone with Spock. It’s nice to see a human face for a change.”

A most un-human characteristic eyebrow raised on the Vulcan’s forehead, as he considered whether or not he had just been insulted by his closest friend and spouse.

McCoy was grinning at their extra-terrestrial companion, and he commented, “Funny, I don’t remember Athos ever being described as having ears like that.”

Spock's expression grew even more long-suffering and patronizing, as he pronounced the most distasteful word in his vocabulary:

“Humans.”

The two humans grinned, and McCoy gestured with his brandy glass toward their aristocratic friend. “We love you too, Spock.”

Kirk swallowed the last gulp of liquor in his glass. “Uh, Bones,” he changed the subject, “so what time does Maggie want us over tomorrow?”

“Oh, say what about sixteen-hundred? I’ve got a couple of oil landscapes I’m painting that I’d like to show you both. And I know Maggie wants to get Spock in a corner, and we won’t see either of them again for the rest of the evening. Hell, I can’t figure out, whenever we come home from a mission, whether she’s happier to see me or the rest of the guys. All she talks about is seeing you two again, and preparing for Scotty and Seanna’s wedding, and having everyone up to the lodge for the week. And she and Uhura already have some project planned which they’re not letting me in on.”

Kirk shrugged with another grin. “Maggie just appreciates quality companionship, what can I say?”

“I don’t think she even remembers which one of us she’s married to.”

“Oh, I doubt that Doctor, considering the amount of inter-space communiqués you always re­ceive from her while we’re out. I think you get more mail from her that I get memos from Starfleet.”

“I like her better than Starfleet.”

“So do I.”

Then once again, McCoy made a move to leave. “Listen, I think I will leave after all, and get home to my wife. It’s the last chance I’ll have her to myself for the next ten days.”

“Well, then, by all means, Doctor,” Kirk agreed. “In fact, I make it an official order. Go keep Maggie company, and then we’ll come to see you both tomorrow at sixteen-hundred sharp.”

On his way to the door, McCoy lingered a moment to step behind the couch and rest a hand on Spock's shoulder. “Thanks again Spock. That… meant a great deal to me.”

“You are quite welcome, Doctor,” Spock acknowledged. “It meant a great deal to me as well.”

McCoy’s fingers squeezed gently, then he headed for the door. “We’ll see you tomorrow.” The door closed behind him.

Kirk poured himself another drink, then wandered to the sliding glass back door on the oppo­site side of the room Casually he mentioned, “Well, he took that rather well, don’t you agree, Spock?”

“It was the only logical response to express, Admiral,” Spock replied. “Any other response would have been senseless.”

“Since when have you ever considered Doctor McCoy to be a logical man?” Kirk grinned back at his friend on the sofa. “I mean, he could have reacted emotionally – gotten angry, walked out on us, never spoken to us again.”

“Doctor McCoy is indeed an emotional man; however he would never desert us.”

“I’m glad you were so sure about it – I can’t say I was… But we did have to tell him. Besides, as he said, he already had guessed most of it anyway.”

“We could not have hidden it forever.”

“No.”

Spock arose from the couch to stroll over to Kirk. Kirk opened the door, and the two wan­dered out onto the patio overlooking the night view of the bay. A few lights sparkled on the shim­mering water. The summer evening breeze lapped ripples against the narrow sandy beach below the balcony. Across the bay, darker silhouettes of brush-covered hills pressed against the black sky. Above, the stars sparkled clearly. No overcast obscured the diamond display, nor did any mass of bright city lights. That was one big reason why Kirk had bought this house so far out from the City proper: so that for the few months of each year when he was down on the ground, he could still look up at the stars undimmed by man’s civilization. The other big reason was the privacy of the lot. No neighbors intruded within line-of-sight. From now on – especially – that privacy would truly be ap­preciated.

Spock had moved to the split-wood railing at the edge of the patio. Slight cock of head, eyes squinting out across the bay, he had the intent expression of seeking some sign of – life? activity? weather change? Even off-duty back home on Vulcan, or here on Earth, the Enterprise’s science-officer never lost his scientific curiosity regarding Nature.

Kirk was smiling to himself about his old friend. Stepping up behind the tall slender figure, he laid his hands on the Vulcan’s shoulders. “Are you happy now, Spock?” he asked, beginning to massage the Vulcan’s lean-muscled neck and shoulders.

“Are you?” Spock responded.

Kirk looked past his old friend to the tranquil sea beyond. His fingers stroked, soothed warm flesh. “Yes, Spock, I’m very happy.”

Spock nodded acknowledgement. “Then I too am happy, for both of us.”

“You’re going to spend the night here, with me, aren’t you?”

“If you wish it.”

“I wish it very much, Spock. In fact I wish you’d vacate your place and move in with me now. There’s no sense our living apart any longer.”

“Then I shall stay tonight, and make arrangements to move in tomorrow, if that is your desire.”

Kirk’s chin rested on Spock's shoulder. “It is, Spock, it is.”

. . . . .

 _to be continued_ …


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once more Kirk’s hands reached for Spock's, thumbs stroked Spock's fingers, knuckles. “It’s not appropriate protocol to fall in love with one’s first-officer.”  
> “Nor for a first-officer to request presumptuous liberties with his commanding officer.”  
> “Spock…” – eyes half-closed, tiny smile playing at corner of lips – “… would you like to engage in presumptuous liberties with your commanding officer again tonight?”

Kirk smiled. He was indeed happy now – happier than he could remember being in a long time. What an unexpected turn their lives had taken – now Kirk couldn’t imagine wanting or needing anything else. He knew Spock felt the same, although now with Pon Farr completed and his emotions once gain locked up tight, Vulcan heritage precluded him from expressing those feelings of happiness in any manner other than as deference to Kirk – that deference which he’d sworn twenty-eight years before. Kirk couldn’t resist a little kiss to the side of Spock's neck. The tranquility of the summer night soothed him, so very peaceful.

Until one rather un-peaceful thought laid itself before his mind.

“You know, Spock, sooner or later, we’re going to have to tell Admiral Albrecht about our plans.”

“Yes,” Spock agreed, “the admiral must be informed.”

“… I don’t suppose he’ll take it as calmly as McCoy…”

“That is not a likely prospect.”

Gentle half-closed eyes looked at the Vulcan. “And what about your parents? Sooner or later they’re going to find out.”

Spock stiffened abruptly beneath Kirk’s hands, voice chilled slightly. “Vulcan propriety would never condone the breaching of another’s sexual privacy. For my parents to take note of my sexual behavior would be an intrusion of great discourtesy. Neither my mother nor my father would ever display such crudity.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Kirk apologized hastily. “I’m sorry, Spock. I just was thinking that whenever we visit your parents, your father could easily read my thoughts. I’m sure you two know how to shield your thoughts effectively from others, but I don’t. I might inadvertently let my guard slip.”

“My father is most capable of protecting against receiving the untrained mental emanations of humans. If he were not, he would not have been able to function all these years at the Terran Embassy.”

“Of course you’re right,” Kirk agreed. “Sorry for bringing up an impolite subject. No offense meant.”

Vulcan chill melted. “And none taken. You are not yet fully cognizant of Vulcan conven­tionality, but you will learn.”

“I promise I’ll work on it.” Kirk enjoyed standing there in the night air, embracing his lover. “And anyway, maybe I’m wrong to worry. Maybe people won’t find out about us after all. I mean everyone knows that we have to retire some day, and it’s not that far-fetched an idea that the two of us might live together just as roommates. What we do when we live together is our business.”

“That is true,” Spock allowed. “Unfortunately, that does not apply to Admiral Albrecht.”

“Unfortunately,” Kirk agreed. And moving over to the fence, he hitched one hip up on the railing, looked up at Spock's serious face gazing out at the night. “On the other hand, maybe it does. We have a right to request retirements at our age – we don’t have to confess every single detail as to why.”

“Perhaps, but you will have to be a very astute actor when he debriefs you. The admiral is aware that you assisted me through Pon Farr. And he is a very perceptive individual.”

Kirk had to grin. “You’re right about that, Spock. And you know, there’s something else we haven’t even touched on yet: how are we going to explain to the rest of the crew? How are we going to behave up at the McCoys’ lodge? Do you suppose everyone has guessed by now? I tried to hide it from them on the return home… I’m not sure how successful I was.”

”I do not know how many know or suspect the truth – I do know that a number of them were perplexed by your curious conduct on the bridge.”

“… and not by yours?” Kirk smiled up at his aristocratic friend.

Spock's face registered mild surprise at Kirk’s question. “Most certainly not. After Pon Farr, my emotions were once again completely controlled. During the return to Earth, my behavior was totally unremarkable. There was nothing for anyone to suspect regarding my conduct.”

“Oh, of course not,” Kirk jabbed playfully. But it was true – Spock had reverted back to pro­per form so completely that Kirk himself had begun to wonder if the Vulcan’s expressed intimacies toward him had indeed been nothing but a figment of Spock's week-long emotional upheaval. Only the deep psychic sense of Spock's love from their new unification had continued to reassure him. Kirk winked a tiny wink. “You’re an astute actor. Too bad you can’t talk with Albrecht in my place.”

“That would not be appropriate protocol, no.”

Once more Kirk’s hands reached for Spock's, thumbs stroked Spock's fingers, knuckles. “It’s not appropriate protocol to fall in love with one’s first-officer.”

“Nor for a first-officer to request presumptuous liberties with his commanding officer.”

“Spock…” – eyes half-closed, tiny smile playing at corner of lips – “… would you like to engage in presumptuous liberties with your commanding officer again tonight?”

“If the admiral wishes it…”

“That’s not exactly what I asked.” Kirk’s hands squeezed long fingers gently. “Would it please you, Mister Spock? For yourself?”

Deep brown eyes watched him. “It pleases me to please my commander. I can express it no other way.” Now Spock returned the finger-pressure. “I shall be most willing to assist you in any manner you desire, Jim, tonight and any other night that you request my presence.”

“Then I request your presence – and your body heat – every night, Mister.”

“… but I must remind you again that is will be different from now on. We shall not be opera­ting as deeply on such psychic or metaphysical levels. I shall not be the same as I was during Pon Farr. I do not wish for you to be disappointed if it is not as you expect.”

Kirk shrugged. “I realize that, Spock. I don’t expect it to be the same profound spiritual ex­perience as sharing your Pon Farr. All I ask is will you respond to my caresses, and will you wil­lingly initiate your own.”

“Yes.”

“… and will you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes, Jim, indeed I shall.”

“Then, that’s all I ask for and expect. So, no, I won’t be disappointed.”

Then reaching up to the fastenings of Spock's cassock, Kirk opened it, pushed back the green satin almost off his shoulders, then unbuttoned pale silk blouse and pulled it open as well. Spock allowed Kirk to touch in any way he chose. Dark eyes watched Kirk most benignly. Casually Kirk was looking at Spock's bared hairless chest, as Kirk’s hands pushed aside the feather-light material and reached for Spock’s breasts. He felt the firm flesh beneath his touch, warm, very warm. Fingers slid down sternal cleavage, palms slid over slight swell of breasts, fingertips found tiny nipple bumps. Moonlight spilled over the two men on the patio: Kirk making a thorough study of the objects of his interest. Between thumb and forefinger, Kirk gently pinched one nipple, looked at it; then smiling eyes lifted to the Vulcan’s face. “This used to make you feel very good, Spock. It used to arouse you passionately when I… touched you in this manner.”

“It still does, Jim,” Spock admitted, although in a tone of voice more calm than passionate. “How would you like me to touch you in return?”

Kirk’s interest returned to the tender erect nipple. “Any way that you choose, Spock, any way… at all… that you choose.” And leaning forward, eyes dreamy, lips parted, he kissed it, gently, so gently, ran the tip of a quivering wet tongue over it, breath slightly irregular with the expectant excitement of sexual play once again. And finally, away from the ship, here in his own home, soon to share his own bed with Spock for the first time…

Spock's breath too was less than even; his hands took the sides of Kirk’s head, fingers slid into wavy brown curls, pressing Kirk’s face to his bared breast, allowing Kirk the liberty to kiss, suck, nip the little tit, work it to firm erection. Then tilting Kirk’s head back, he kissed his human friend full on the mouth.

Kirk moaned as sudden pressure surged through his loins. Tonight promised to be sweet – very sweet. After more than a month of total abstinence, the contrast nearly overwhelmed him with sensual anticipation. Spock's hands held Kirk’s head as the kiss deepened, Kirk’s tongue prodded at Spock's closed dry cool lips, licked them, urged, until Spock opened his mouth, and Kirk’s tongue intruded as far as it could, eagerly, with proprietary presumption. Spock's hands slide down to grip Kirk’s shoulders, squeeze them tightly, pull him back up to his feet, off the railing. Kirk’s hands reached inside Spock's blouse, slid around behind his back, hugged him tightly. Through the light material of his own tunic, he could feel the tiny firm bumps of Spock's erect nipples pressed to his own breasts. A slight pulse throbbed in his genitals. The kiss broke, joined again, broke; Kirk’s lips traced over Spock’s weathered lined cheek. “Spock…” he breathed against warm skin. “Spock… I am very… excited right now… very… aroused…” As if to illustrate, the swell of Kirk’s genitals pressed tightly into the left indentation of Spock's groin.

“I am pleased,” Spock acknowledged, lips caressing short brown curls. “Do you wish to join with me now?”

“In a little while, Spock. I don’t want to rush this… I don’t… want to… rush this…” Parted lips explored Spock's face, throat, shoulder, breast, found the other nipple which Kirk hadn't tasted yet tonight. Spock's hands held him. Although the Vulcan was not responding as excitedly as before, Kirk could feel beneath his searching lips tremors of Vulcan muscles, Spock half-caught between maintaining calm self-control or giving in to the few human hormones building in his blood. Kirk smiled to himself. Human hormones were very definitely building up in his own blood, very inten­sely. Again Spock took Kirk’s head, pulled it back, kissed him very firmly, very hungrily on the mouth.

Then reaching to the tie belt at Kirk’s waist, Spock undid it, then took the hem of the loose silky material of Kirk’s tunic and worked the garment up Kirk’s body. Kirk allowed him to pull it over and off Kirk’s head and arms. Spock tossed it aside onto a patio chair, eyes carefully studying his friend’s body. Kirk stood before him, enjoying the Vulcan’s quiet gaze. Spock was much more subdued now than he had been during his Pon Farr, but that was all right. He was here now at Kirk’s house, and soon he would share Kirk’s bed.

“Spock,” Kirk remarked lightly, “So, tell me, what are your logical conclusions from your ob­servations? Do you like what you see?”

“Yes, Jim,” the Vulcan responded, eyes averted slightly down to gaze at Kirk’s thick well-muscled torso, “… very much…” Hands reached to Kirk’s breasts, brow creased slightly as with an expression of scientific fascination. Kirk grinned to himself. He certainly hoped that he meant more to Spock than simply as an object of scientific curiosity. He suspected that he did.

Spock moved so that he now half-sat on the railing, and his head was at the level of Kirk’s chest. Then as Kirk had done a minute before, Spock leaned forward to caress his lips over Kirk’s nipples.

Kirk’s arms cradled Spock's head close, a look approaching dreamy ecstasy on Kirk’s face. Despite his desire to take it slow and easy, he could hardly control himself now, anymore than he could that first night of Spock's Pon Farr.

Kirk bent down to kiss the top of Spock's head. Spock's shiny black hair felt like silk strands against Kirk’s lips, and still smelled of spice. Kirk knew that Spock used the spice incense during his nightly meditation ritual, not just during Pon Farr. But for whatever religious reasons Spock used it, Kirk found the alluring scent to be extremely heady and erotic.

“Spock…” he murmured.

Spock didn’t respond, but nipped at Kirk’s tit with gentle teeth. Electric tingle stimulated Kirk’s genitals. Kirk’s breath caught.

“Spock, he managed again, breath gasping, “let’s go inside. I… can never hold out… as long as I’d like… around you…”

“As you wish, Jim.” Compliantly Spock released Kirk, then followed him into the house and into the bedroom.

Kirk thumbed the light switch in the bedroom. Spock's gaze took in the huge warmly-lit room: the walnut panelling, the off-white shag carpet, the ivory-silk bed-quilt, the large philodendron in the corner near the curtained window. On the opposite side of the room sat a large walnut desk in front of a built-in floor-to-ceiling bookcase, and off to the side, the doorway to the master bath.

Kirk had bought the place several years before, and Spock had visited often, since they spent most of their off-time together as well as their duty-time. But now the situation was changed. Off-time would never be the same again.

While Spock looked over the room, Kirk looked over his first-officer. Slowly Spock stepped closer to the bed, eyes still frowning with the slight curiosity, the same expression he always wore when entering some new unknown situation. Then hands reached up to the front edges of his cas­sock, pulled it off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

“Spock,” Kirk smiled. “I hope you’re looking forward to this as much as I am.”

Spock turned his gaze on the man strolling up behind him. “I choose to experience this with you.” And then standing there before Kirk, Spock shrugged out of the silk blouse and dropped it to the floor on top of the cassock.

And a sudden tender passion washed over Kirk, a sense of Spock's true inner feelings, con­flicts, desires, that squeezed Kirk’s own heart… this is what it meant to be unified through the sun’s-blood… no longer did Spock even need to physically touch him for their minds to join; T’Lar had united them, two individualities, unique still, but no longer disparate… and Kirk knew suddenly the intensity of the inner battle Spock had been waging with himself: a Vulcan male deliberately sur­rendering his manhood to another, willingly, as dear a gift as offering his life, perhaps dearer… and as Spock now offered himself to his closest friend, Kirk realized in an intuitive flash of sympathetic clarity the price would Spock would pay before the night ended, the price he had chosen to pay.

“Oh, Spock…” Kirk breathed, hardly knowing how to accept such a precious gift, just as McCoy had recognized the gravity of the Vulcan’s offering to him not thirty minutes before.

And then to seal the oblation, Spock said not a word, but took Kirk’s upper arms; tilted his head down to kiss the human, kiss him very deeply.

The kiss lingered, not a frantic exploratory searching of lips, but rather a long hard steady pressure, as wordlessly their consciousnesses and personalities intertwined once again in an intimacy far greater than any physical unification.

And finally when Spock released him, Kirk sat down on the edge of the bed, then lay back across the bed, still dressed from the waist down, and watched Spock standing over him. He couldn’t resist a chuckle of delight and an admission: “… god, I love you.”

Spock said nothing, but stood close so that their lower legs touched.

Kirk was smiling. “You know,” he commented, “the last time I wanted something so badly was twenty-eight years ago when I received my commission and command of a starship. God, that was a fantasy-come-true. Do you remember when I came aboard the Enterprise?”

“I remember the very day.”

Kirk’s eyes were lit from within. “And I remember you, my Vulcan friend, my Vulcan… mate.” He reached for Spock's hand, idly rubbed a thumb over the man’s fingers. “And now we’re talking about giving up the Enterprise… I never thought I would ever willingly relinquish the ship… and my command.”

“Nor I, mine.”

“You were on her before I was.”

“Seven months. Doctor Chapel and I were the first to be assigned to the Enterprise.”

“And yet you’re willing to give up the ship now… for me.”

“Yes… for us.”

And then Spock leaned over him, once hand propped beside Kirk’s head, the other reaching down to the bulge of Kirk’s groin. Kirk moaned as the firm fingers rubbed over the material of his pants. He raised one booted foot to the bed.

“Spock…”

The Vulcan’s quiet face watched Kirk’s. “Is there something you want, Admiral?” The caressing fingers slid down the inside of Kirk’s thighs, stroked, squeezed, slid back up to Kirk’s crotch, gripped and rubbed.

Another helpless moan. “You know what I want, partner.” Hastily Kirk unsnapped and un­zipped; Spock pushed away Kirk’s hands, then reached in himself to draw out the erect swollen human organ. “Well,” Kirk grinned, “it looks like something’s ready for a little action.”

Spock's hand began to manipulate. “That would appear to be an accurate assessment of the situation.”

“And…” Kirk’s interest shifted to the waistband of Spock’s trousers; he undid the opening and slid his hand in to find the Vulcan’s own organ, now limp with incapability, “… let’s just see if we can get something else interested in a little bit of interplay. Maybe your Vulcan blood has to wait seven years, but I’ll just bet your human blood doesn’t… if just the right stimulation is applied in just the right place…”

“I would say that is a worthwhile experiment to undertake…” Spock rubbed his fondling hand deeper between Kirk’s spread legs, hefted Kirk’s testicles, to Kirk’s delighted pleasure. Then letting go for a few brief moments, Spock sat down beside Kirk on the bed to pull off his own boots and slacks, and then finished undressing Kirk.

When Spock had completed the déshabillément, Kirk drew his dangling legs up onto the bed. Then taking both of Spock's hands, he urged his friend up with him. On top of the bed-quilt, Kirk lay stretched out on his back while Spock lay beside him, propped up on one elbow. And once again, Spock reached for Kirk’s genitals while Kirk reached for Spock's.

They played for awhile, for a short while, hands stroking, caressing, pumping, lips kissing lips, tasting, sucking: Kirk hungrily, Spock willingly. Bodies slid together with the ease of famili­arity and the excitement of renewed physical pleasure after an impossible delay of six-and-a-half weeks.

Spock rolled on top of Kirk into his previous dominant position, his lean long body pressing Kirk’s to the firm mattress; legs crossed each other’s, hands released genitals to caress and embrace shoulders, torso, arms; mouths searching faces for new spots to kiss, new pleasures to experience, tongues ramming back into open mouths for some old pleasures to re-experience.

Excitedly Kirk rubbed his pelvis up against Spock's, orgasm once again just microns close. His penis was now very hard and very erect, and he was going to have to find somewhere to insert it very soon or go mad.

Then taking Spock's shoulders, Kirk rolled them both over, and quickly pulled open the bed covers. Obligingly Spock turned prone on the mattress. And then finally Kirk did what he’d been wanting to do for a very long time.

He mounted his first-officer.

For real this time, not some dream-state, not some mystical symbological experience. This was flesh, solid flesh, and that was all Kirk wanted, every bit of it, and nothing else.

His hands slid down the hard muscled body, the slender rib cage, firm hips; then one hand took his own organ leaking lubricating fluid, rubbed it, smeared the fluid all over his penis, all over his hand, then slid a wet probing finger into Spock.

A sharp gasp of surprise burst from Spock's lips – the finger twisted a little, rubbed in and out, while Spock's face tightened in apprehension and a little discomfort, eyes shut tight, little moans whimpering in the Vulcan’s throat.

Then Kirk withdrew the lubricating finger, took hold of his penis with one hand and spread Spock's buttocks with the other, then touched his organ to the tight wet opening,

And pushed in.

Spock cried out in wide-eyed shock, Kirk moaned exquisite satisfaction. He worked his way inside, smoothly, slowly at first. It had never been like this for him. Not all the other times in his life, all the other partners… dear sweet god he wanted this more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his life!...

Body began slamming hard against the body beneath, hard, rhythmic, over and over, again and again, organ pushing in ever deeper, fraction by fraction, into that tight wet hole, so tight, hot sweet…

“Jim…” Spock's gasp hissed through gritted teeth. His body rocked hard with Kirk’s vigor­ous repetitions, his deep panting breath as desperate as that of the man on top slamming into him.

Kirk was in all the way, so intense in his work, ramming and ramming into the slick lubrica­ted sheath. Pleasure pounded through him, waves of pleasure vibrated up and down every inch of his body, tortured every precious inch of his shaft. He lay down on Spock's back, his hands gripped Spock's shoulders, worked the sinewy flesh; his face pressed close to Spock's moist warm breath gasping against Spock's cheek, skin slick and sweaty. Harder and harder he rammed, faster and fas­ter, until orgasm exploded, and he worked it the best he could, as much intensity as he could get out of it… worked their bodies… _oh god oh dear sweet god_ …

… until finally it shimmered away from him, and it was over. Kirk collapsed on top of his partner, heart thumping desperately, lungs dragging deep gasps down air-burned throat, skin drenched; he could feel the warm wet stickiness of semen between their copulated parts… dear sweet god, these last few minutes of exercise had delivered exactly as promised, with not one fraction of disappointment… _dear sweet god_ …

When breathing and heart-rate had relaxed a little, and he thought he’d be steady on his feet once again, Kirk disengaged and started to push himself off the bed for a quick visit to the bathroom.

But Spock had other ideas. Without a word, the Vulcan rolled over and took hold of him; pulled his partner back down onto the mattress face-up, then lay down on top of him, lips close to Kirk’s cheek.

Kirk grinned. “Spock, let me up. I just want to go wash up. I promise I’ll be right back.”

“No.” And Vulcan dominance reasserted itself once more, Vulcan weight pinned the weaker human down. “You know I don’t like separation during intercourse. I wish for you to remain with me. I have just submitted to your desires, and now I wish for you to submit to mine. Bonded mates are supposed to please each other.”

Kirk grinned again. “All right, Spock, if that’s what you want – as long as you help with the laundry in the morning – do bonded mates share that too?”

“Of course.” Spock's gaze moved over his partner’s face, hair, shoulders. Passion stirred somewhere deep inside, beneath Vulcan control.

A human chuckle responded, then human arms embraced a long firm slick body, hand took Vulcan head, pressed it close for a hard deep kiss. Lips and tongues worked eagerly, hands gripped a squeezed and stroked, as the two of them enjoyed intimacy between them – pure simple sweet inti­macy. Their loins continued to rub gently together, not vigorously any longer, not with any chance of another completion, but that was all right, another would come soon enough.

Kirk lay on sweat-damp sheets, and Spock lay on top of him. Kirk gripped Spock's buttocks, worked them, massaged them. He was feeling drowsy now with post-coital exhaustion – drowsy and pleasant. One hand slipped back to Spock's penis, and found the Vulcan organ slightly swollen with incipient erection.

“Well, how about that,” Kirk murmured with a sleepy grin, fingers casually manipulating the intimate flesh. “There’s hope for you yet, Spock. I’ll just bet that in a few more sessions, we’ll get a real performance out of you. And all this time you’ve been assuming that Vulcans couldn’t get any­thing up between-times.”

Spock was responding subtly to the gentle fondling, subtly but definitely. “Yes,” he had to admit, “that assumption does seem to be in dispute now,” then covered Kirk’s mouth for another hard deep kiss.

  
* * * * * **FINIS** * * * * *


End file.
